


Miss You

by FlippityFlappity



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8677144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlippityFlappity/pseuds/FlippityFlappity
Summary: As Negan chants the playful tune of "Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe" the people in the line-up patiently wait with fear coursing through their veins. The bat leans closely to the face of Daryl Dixon, a word spitting out of the mouth of the disgusting man in front of him.  He continues to pace around until the final words of, "And... you are it" are said.  Screams echo around the trees standing tall, the crack of Lucille bleeding through them.  A single body lays still on the floor, almost unrecognizable, with his long locks bashed in, brains scattered around the ground.  That wasn't the worst of it all though, for now they need to tell everyone about the death of Daryl Dixon.





	

Negan grinned eagerly, watching Rick slowly break down under his gaze. That was the goal, to destroy his mental state. Make it clear to him, that he was now the boss, the man in charge. He knew what he had to do, had to kill one of their own for Rick had killed so many of his men. Negan happily explained the plan to Rick, informing how taking down that outpost was a big no-no and that now they had to be punished. He stood up in great pride, still having his dashing grin. As Negan chants the playful tune of "Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe" the people in the line-up patiently wait with fear coursing through their veins. The bat leans closely to the face of Daryl Dixon, a word spitting out of the mouth of the disgusting man in front of him. He continues to pace around until the final words of, "And... you are it" are said.

Negan stood in front of the red-neck who didn't dare to look the man in the eyes. Negan chuckled darkly, biting his lip slowly, swinging Lucille around slightly. Daryl's lip quivers, tears clouding his eyes. He continued to look down, the sweat dripping from his long locks of hair and blood still seeping through the blanket placed over him. "Anybody moves," Negan begins, eyes darting around the faces left speechless. Daryl now slowly guides his eyes up, staring his killer in the face. He doesn't push the hair from the front of his face, he doesn't fix his slouched posture. He just gives a deathly glare straight into the cocky eyes of Negan. "Anybody says anything... cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father!" He says, his voice beginning to get more serious after each word leaves his mouth. "And then we'll start! You can breathe, you can blink," Negan continues, staring back into Daryl's eyes with nothing but confidence shining through. Gasps from the others ring out, tears streaming down crimson cheeks. Faces full of sorrow look at Daryl in shock, not realizing that these final few moments, the last ones, are the end for him. "You can cry... hell," Negan raises up Lucille, the smile creeping back onto his face. "You're all going to be doing that!" He finishes, slamming down his raised arm to strike the red-neck in the head.

Daryl swoops down, blood trickling down his forehead from where the bat hit. He ushers up slowly, a tear flowing freely down his cheek. He lets out a shallow breath, the pain almost unbearable. Daryl puts up his hand, showing off his middle finger to Negan before once again being struck down again to the ground by Lucille. Screams echo around the trees standing tall, the crack of Lucille bleeding through them. Negan's devilish chuckle erupts once he steps away from Daryl, or rather what was left of the man. He was almost unrecognizable, with his long locks bashed in, brains scattered around the ground. You only could tell it was Daryl Dixon because of the blanket wrapped around him. Everyone sobbed silently, one of their own being killed brutally. That wasn't the worst of it all though, for now they need to tell everyone about the death of Daryl Dixon. Once The Saviors left, everyone sat still, bodies shaking from crying, from fear, from witnessing what happened.

Rick was the first to get up, his balance wavering as he quickly caught himself from falling. His throat burned with the feeling of bile rising. Yet, it stayed down as he neared his best friend. Rosita cried softly into her hands, Glenn holding Maggie who was shaking. Aaron stood up, his breath silent as he too went to Daryl's body. "We... we need to take him back, can't leave him here." Aaron whispered quietly, directing his eyes away from the brains of his friend. Rick simply nodded, hand placed on his belt as he ran his other hand through his sweaty hair. "What are we going to tell everyone... what are going to tell Jesus?" Rick murmured to Aaron, tears once again building up threatening to fall. Aaron sighed, remembering the long-haired man who traveled to Alexandria weeks ago. In that time, Daryl and Jesus had grown close, which was large steps for Daryl to take. Some claim that the two men loved each other, but Daryl would always shut down those ideas, even after many pauses for him to think. Rick bent down, grabbing one side of Daryl's body as Aaron takes the hint to follow. The group files into the RV, first going to the Hilltop to drop off the Rhee family, who still were in shock, as were the others.

Once returning to Alexandria, the group hesitantly exited the RV. Spencer ran up, questioning where they had been, asking what happened. Others quickly followed, crowding everyone before noticing everyone's puffy eyes and dull faces. Jesus eyed the crowd, curiosity filling his body. He knew to wait until they were ready to talk because he knew now that they were beaten down according to their faces. Everyone pushed through the small crowd, the crowd gasping and sighing, leaving to go back to whatever they were doing before joining the mob. Rick walked to his house, slamming the door loudly behind him. Rosita sat on a bench, her red cheeks shining brightly from the dried streaks of tears. Jesus left the comforting porch, making his way over to Michonne. He stood next to her, giving her a moment. "What happened?" He asked, keeping his vice low so that Alexandria didn't get a fresh new crazy topic to gossip about. "You don't want to know." Michonne weakly replied, sighing as she shook her head in sorrow. "Negan... the Saviors..." She continued. She stopped, pausing before looking Jesus in his bright blue eyes. "I'm so sorry, Paul." She told him sincerely, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. He bit his lip in wonderment, knowing it had to be very serious for everyone was crying and Michonne didn't talk to him in his nickname. "Why? What happened, Michonne?" Jesus asked, his voice toned with curiosity. She sighed, blinking rapidly to block out oncoming tears. "He decided to kill one of us, one of us sitting in a line. He went around before picking the victim. It wasn't fair. It wasn't what should have even happened... I can't... I don't," She whimpered, tears running down her cheeks. She gave a sad chuckle, wiping her tears away. "Would have thought nobody could have so many tears..." Jesus gave a small smile in return but still wondered what happened. "I'm sorry, I... I can't right now." Jesus nodded assuringly, placing his hand on her shoulder this time. "It's fine, take all the time you need. Go, rest up." He told her. She left to go home after that, leaving Jesus to figure out who had become the victim. He looked around the town, realizing someone didn't come back. Glenn and Maggie were at the Hilltop, at least that's what he heard someone say. So if Maggie and Glenn were safe, who was gone?

It suddenly hit him, sending him straight to the paved ground. He gasped, hands rushing to his mouth. "No!" He exclaimed, not believing what he learned. Not believing that Daryl Dixon had fallen victim to the bat handled by a vicious, ass of a man. The man who needed to warm up to you to find a sense of comfort, the man who didn't really talk but rather made you know he was listening from small grunts in reply. The man who stole Jesus' heart. "I'm going to fucking kill him!" Jesus mumbled to himself, rage setting in. His pink-tinted cheeks ached as he hiccupped, tears continuing to stream down them. They left little white lines, almost wanting to remind you why they were there. Why you began to cry in the first place. Jesus painfully walked back to his white painted house, closing the blue door and collapsing right on the wooden floor. "I miss you, already. Please, no. This is a sick dream. A nasty, horror of a dream." Jesus would whisper to himself, trying to convince himself anything but the truth was real. But deep down, the man knew what reality was. Reality is that nobody is safe, including his favorite red-neck who fell victim to a brutal death. "I miss you..." He mumbled, tracing the tears seeping down. His long hair was a mess, hands thrashing through it without a care in the world. "I told you, I told you Daryl Dixon. I'm going to miss you so much when you are gone!" He yelled at the top of his lungs without giving a damn to who heard him. Daryl showed Jesus what a difference people can make in each other. How much someone can change. He showed Jesus love, something that left his heart from the beginning of the apocalypse. "I love you..." He whispered using a breath saved from the constant gasps leaving him. He loved that man, with all his heart. He knew Daryl knew it, he knew Daryl died feeling loved by him and his family, those all at Alexandria. "I love you so fucking much, god dammit..." Jesus mumbled before crashing down onto the hard wood, tears clouding his vision as he slowly went into the darkness, sleep and stress overcoming his body. A hole was left in his heart that continued to beat out a subtle rhythm when the heart he loved was now dead silent, no longer giving it's own personal, unique rhythm.


End file.
